Breaking Diamond
by faeryguts
Summary: With the Titan's clashing with the ideas of the Jump City Police Department, disagreements are to be made. But with a new villain on the loose and a man missing, the Titans find themselves not just clashing evil, but themselves as well. With the rise of the Brotherhood of Evil on the horizon, it may be harder than they thought... [original fan character oriented story; canon]
1. part one: mesmerize

Armando didn't exactly detest his job.

But, he didn't exactly _like_ it, either. It was just a family thing, his father and grandfather and the person before that had done it, too. He gazed down at the city from the spacious glass window, flickers of all sorts of shades of yellow and red and blue spread out all over the city. Moonlight poured through the window, his shadow casting along the grey walls of the complex. The city was beautiful from above, but from the ground, Jump City had its dangerous cesspools of crimes. He could've sworn he had just heard police sirens in the distance, his hand twitching.

"Detective Vivas," a long, inky silhouette cast itself along the wall besides his, slowly swallowing his shadow whole. The voice was soft, gentle even, but managed to reverberate through the whole room, one that he knew anywhere, "I see the offices took my request."

"It interested me," Armando admitted honestly, "You aren't the only case, that's for sure...but you were the biggest of the many," Pristine shoes began their tapping against the floor again, the detective finally turning around from his view. The man behind him was one of great elegance, his posture towering and spindly. He was easily one of the tallest men Armando has laid his eyes on, a cane in one of his hands, tapping against the floor. The handle was one in the shape of a feral pig, the gold twinkling in the dim light. Where Armando had bulk, the man had a lean build, the two men polar opposites. He gave a light chuckle.

"Nothing like over one hundred thousand being stolen from my estate to catch your attention, hm?" He gave a smile that Armando could only describe as, well, wicked. Thaddeus Barley was a man of ominous intentions, after all. "Why, not even my guards could get past the...little guest I had, but you caught the accomplice, yes?"

"The man in question is in custody," Armando grunted, as the man's grin grew even wider, "Tell me, do you have any idea why they are doing this, Teddy?"

"Ah, probably the fact I am the richest man in this city?" he gave a louder chortle this time, "Great to see you again, Arny. I just wish that our next meeting wasn't one of bad intentions."

Armando remembered this man; in fact, he _knew_ this man. He thought back to his childhood, to that skinny boy that lived down the road in the orphanage, his eyes dark and his expression always solemn. But, when trouble came around, his face would always twist into one of disobedience. A bad apple, his father had always said, every time Armando would go play basketball with Thaddeus (he was unnaturally good) or checkers (it was like he was a genius).

Thaddeus was a strange boy growing up, to say the least. Armando had always been the hot-headed one, that was certain, but there was always something off about Thaddeus. Demon Boy, was that what they used to call him? Boys up and down the road used to come and fight Thaddeus, with the excuse of _he was being disrespectful_ or _he needs to be put in his place,_ and every one would come out beaten and bruised. Diamond. Yes, Thaddeus was said to have knuckles as hard as raw diamond, Armando had always said he should've been a boxer.

"Boxing is for pack mules," Teddy would remind Armando, his fingers coated in soil, "And I ain't no mule, Arny." He'd chant, and he'd go straight back to gardening. He said that it made the place more lively.

And every time his parents would go down to the police station, they'd always make that slow roll, rolling down the windows and watching Thaddeus plant flowers upon flowers in his front yard. Even in the slums, Thaddeus had managed to make that hellhole into a five-star garden.

Boy, were his parents wrong.

"I could say the same, yea," Armando's tone became more lax, as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, Thaddeus glancing down at the paper before taking it out of his hand slowly, opening it in an instant. Thaddeus Barley was an unnaturally tall man, with lanky limbs. His eyes were unnaturally pale as well, a color he could only describe as unpolished copper. His eyes scanned it, before looking back up at Armando.

"Hm," Thaddeus crumbled the paper, "The boy, huh?" his smile was one Thaddeus could only describe as mischief, one of wickedness, "I can give you that on one condition. And _only_ one condition." He pulled a lighter out of his coat pocket, sparks flying a few times before the paper combust into flames, the paper turning to ashes in the air, one with the atmosphere now.

"And what would that be?"

There was a pause, and Armando could've sworn he'd felt the room drop a few degrees.

"Bring back Adamas."

* * *

 **PART ONE : MESMERIZE.**

Kingsley wasn't one to believe rumors, normally.

She considered herself a level-headed person. Sure, she had her moments, she was a bit arrogant, yeah, but she never thought of anything that was impossible. Rationality was the key, people were liars, in fact, she was one herself, she hated to admit it. But everyone had their secrets, and sometimes lying had to be done to keep them. That was the way the world went round. But this rumor, it had to be one that blew it out the park.

"Titans?" Mrs. Chancellor raised a silver eyebrow, "The closest we'll get to them is the television screen, who told you dat' kerfuffle, Dora?" Kingsley slapped another label on the pot of daisies, the smell of sharpies and pollen strong in her nostrils. Mrs. Chancellor was a round woman, her face was surprisingly youthful despite her white hair. She was a woman wisdom, but unfortunately one with a hard head as well.

"The entire block," Kingsley looked out the panel windows, watching people walk by, the clouds outside were a slate gray; the weatherman did say it would rain later on that day, "They're saying that Titans have been goin' up and down this entire side of town, Mrs. Chance." The elderly woman blew out a hot breath, rolling her eyes.

Jump City was a diverse, ever growing city. And with every city, comes its downfalls. This side of town happened to be one of them. The faint sounds of police sirens always filled Kingsley's ears, it was almost music to her ears. The concrete here was as cracked as the people here, crime was almost at every corner on this side of town, a concrete jungle, the mayor of Jump City had called them. The rest of the city didn't even claim them, they were just the filler noise to the rest of the supervillians and other evils that plagued the rest of the city.

This side of town had a war of its own going on. One the Titans couldn't beat, between blood and lust and broken dignity, Kingsley had seen countless people killed over petty things and arguments. The war here, no, this one was personal. In fact, she was sure for a fact that most of these Titans hadn't even set foot on this side of town. They were more associated with stopping bigger crimes, most of them didn't take it personally. To be honest, most of them didn't blame them.

"Pft," Mrs. Chance stood from her rocking chair, making her way to the back of the store, "Y'all already know people make up anythin' round here," she pushed up Kingsley's shades for her as she passed, "I'll be back here if you need me, I need to call Earl." she closed the door behind her, leaving Kingsley in the shop all by herself.

There were three things wrong with this rumor, Kingsley concluded:

1) This rumor wasn't funny, not at all.

2) The Titans wouldn't just show up; they were looking for somebody. Or something.

and 3) Something was going to go terribly, terribly wrong.

She bent down under her cashier, reaching for her purse. Maybe if she texted Alphonse, or maybe even Candice, hell, they could explain something about what exactly was going on. She heard the bell on the door jingle, her hand finally latching onto her purse. "Welcome," she called almost automatically, something she had picked up from working here daily, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yea, there is," the voice responded, one belonging to a male. Typical, she concluded, he was probably looking for something for his wife or girlfriend (to get her back, that was usually the story), "I'm looking for somebody, actually." Kingsley felt an itch, coming up from under the counter, not looking up.

"If you're looking for Chance, she-" When she looked up, Kingsley froze, her body tensing.

"I dig the new color, what is that, blond?" The person heckled, a goofy grin Kingsley knew all too well growing on their face, "And I gotta admit, short hair actually does look good on you."

"It's champagne, actually," Kingsley unzipped her purse, setting her phone on the table, "And it fits me, right?" She felt pride grow in her from the compliment, twirling a finger in her tight curl, her eyes scanning up and down his body. It was one that was so foreign to her, one of cybernetic parts blending with a heart she knew was too big to _not_ be beating, "What are you doin' out here, Victor? I guess the rumors were right." She could've sworn she'd seen him strain at the mention of his real name.

"Nice to see you again too, Kingsley," In Cyborg's eyes, Kingsley had changed immensely, but some of that was to be taken into consideration, he hadn't seen her since she was around twelve or thirteen, right before he had moved way into the larger city. Her face was still round, her skin was the color of dark chocolate, but she had an air of maturity around her. She still wore those shades, tinted a dark orange, her dark hair cut and dyed into tight curls. She had pierced her septum, just as she always said she would. In fact, she was everything she said she'd be when they were younger. He could hear her voice echoing in his head, _"When I grow up, best believe I'm gonna take care of myself..._

"Givin' me the cold shoulder, huh?" Kingsley rolled her eyes, her phone vibrating rapidly on the counter, "How are ya' doin? How's Al and Candy?"

"Candy is off somewhere with her boyfriend, and Al is working at the cabaret," she scoffed, "You act like stuff changes 'round here, but the only changes I'm lookin' at is the Terminator in front of me." Her smile was unnerving, but he kept staring down at her, the girl crossing her arms.

Harsh, as usual.

She learned over, resting her chest on the table, "Now, forreal, Vic, I know you, and I know y'all and the circus want something. So, what is it?" To Cyborg, the only other change he saw was in the tiny girl right in front of him. She still had that spark, but God, was she haughty.

"Alright, ya' got me," he raised his hands in defeat, "Me and the gang are looking for someone, and we think you may have the lead."

"...And what exactly is that thing you need?" her eyebrows furrowed behind her glasses, "You're lucky you're with the Feds, you know that? I'm giving you this favor, just once." Cyborg grinned back, happy that she had finally begun to break down her barrier. _That_ was the Kingsley he knew.

"None of the other Titans wanted to come here, actually," he admitted, "I was the one that volunteered to go, but Beast Boy did come along." Kingsley glanced past him outside to see the green boy running around in the busted hydrant with the kids in neighborhood, Cyborg moving back in her way. Prick. "Now...Marcell." Kingsley felt her blood run cold, before Cyborg grabbed her shoulder, his hand warm, "Before you leave, I just wanna say I'm sorry about what happened. But, we may have found a lead." Kingsley tapped her long nails against the counter, _click click._

"What sort of lead?" _Click, click._

"We may know where he had gone, or exactly, _who_ took him." _Click._ "But, we need your cooperation with the department, because we think it may be associated with a group of supervillians." _Click._

"There's a catch, I'm not stupid."

 _Click._

"The department wants you to go and talk to their chief, that's the only catch. Then, you can go back to your gardening, and then you can go back on your way." If he could see her eyes, he knew that they would be slits right now, suspicious as ever.

"...Can you bring him back, if y'all catch this group, yea?"

 _Click._

"Yeah."

She sighed, picking up her phone, "There's always a catch," he could've sworn he'd heard a trace of sorrow in her voice, "Always," she sent a text back to whoever was blowing up her line, then made a shoo-ing motion, "Good, now get out, seeing you makes me anxious." Cyborg's eyebrows raised.

"Can I at least get a hug, for time's sake?"

"Get out, Victor."

* * *

 **this is my first story in a little over a year.  
**

 **i havent written, ive had so many ideas but i had to take care of my health first. before i continue, thank you to the people that have stayed with me this entire journey, and to everyone that i love. yall are really the best. to say the least, i have not been well. but i have recovered and i feel amazing, and i feel like kingsley is by far the trickiest character i have made so far. i feel like this story will expand into more, and i have high hopes for my writing to improve writing this.**

 **college letters have started pouring in, and my life gets more and more hectic with every turn. i will take breaks with this story, that is to be expected, but i will not abandon it. ive done that too many times to give up on this story ive worked on developing for almost a year. chapter 2 will be out soon, sometime this week. in due time, thank you. reviews are liked, i could use some criticism, or support (:**

 **\- mike, a tired writer.**


	2. downward spiral

" _your worst nightmare for me is a normal dream."_ \- danny brown, downward spiral

Getting Kingsley to comply was easier than Cyborg thought.

Kingsley stood in front of the Jump City Police Department, the summer air warm as the sun finally began to set. She'd taken the bus to get here; she really had no other way to get here. She tried to pinpoint the last time she'd been here, before finally remembering - she was seven, and Candice had been arrested for shoplifting. It was a frigid winter that year, Alphonse had her wrapped around his body. She recalled her mother was livid, slapping Candice Alphonse kept fidgeting with his hoodie pocket. Marcell kept making beats on the plastic chair, and the wrinkly woman at the counter had kept yelling at him, with him just laughing it off. Yes, that was the one crime Candice had on her record, she'd snatched up some lipstick and a few articles of jewelry.

She pushed the thought into the back of her head for another day.

When she opened the door, a cold breeze enveloped her, she wish she'd bought a jacket. Police were scattered about, drinking coffee or jesting each other. There was another woman sitting in the plastic chair, scrolling on her phone. Aside from that, there seemed to be nobody in here, it was almost as if the Titans had just taken their jobs. At the counter was a young woman, her skin the color of caramel and her hair into a frizzy bun. "Yes, can I help you?" her voice was prim, but Kingsley could've sworn she'd heard a twang to her voice. She could've sworn she'd seen the woman in the shop before..

"I'm here for Chief Vivas," Kingsley responded politely, the woman's eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Oh, you're Ms. Pimentel, right?" the woman picked up the phone on her cluttered desk, dialing quickly, "One second…" Kingsley stood there, feeling goosebumps nipping her skin. "Mhm..yes she's here...of course, thank you," she hung up as fast as she picked it up, "Go down the hall behind me, first door to the left." Kingsley just nodded, going on her way.

The hallways of the police department were narrow, the noises of ringing telephones and chatter distant. It was quiet, probably since the day was almost over and most of them were leaving to their families. The walk seemed to take forever, before she finally stopped in front of the door at the beginning of the passage. Kingsley rapped on the door, sniffing a little as she heard a muffled voice yell _"You may enter"._

The room was dim, the only light being the compact lamp that sat on the desk. "Miss Pimentel," the man stood, his voice authoritative and intense. His face was surprisingly handsome, his dark hair slicked back and his skin tan. He was muscular, and his stature made Kingsley seem even more miniature than she already was. "I'd been expecting you, I'm Armando Vivas, chief officer here." He motioned his hand towards her, leaning over the desk, the ghost of a smile on his face. A golden shadow illuminated over his face, making him seem almost like a saving grace.

Kingsley, slightly hesitant, grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly. She could've sworn she'd seen him flinch as she let go as quickly as she shook it, sitting down in the large chair across from his desk. Everything in this room seemed to be humongous, from his long desk to the photographs on the walls. "Nice to meet ya' too," her voice was low, "Pardon me for being rude, but may I ask why I'm here? And why y'all sent Victor, of all people, to see me?" Armando's bushy eyebrow went up.

"You go straight to the point, huh?" his voice was a little jovial, "Cyborg himself wanted to go, actually, he said that he wanted to see how you all were doing." Kingsley crossed her arms, fixing her posture in the chair. This girl, she seemed a little too calm, raising Armando's senses.

"He shouldn't have come askin' for stuff that he knew was too much, then," she scoffed, "I haven't seen his behind in 'bout four years, and he comes in demanding stuff about him."

Him.

"By him, do you mean Marcell?"

Armando saw her body tense, a reaction he didn't expect from her. If anything, the name seemed to make her uncomfortable. "Yea, with his stupid ass," she muttered, clearing her throat, "You don't just come in diggin' out stuff you know will get you in trouble." Her tone was dark. If there was one thing he noticed about the teen in front of him, it was that she definitely carried herself in high regard. And not just that, she had a sinister air to her, like she was always there, watching and waiting. Like an owl, ready to take a mouse with its talons in the night.

"I apologize for his behavior," Armando tried his best to be civil, "But, this case has advanced in a direction we didn't deem possible at first."

"And what direction would that be?"

"On the day of the robbery, last August, the security cameras showed that two people were in that vault, Miss Pimentel," the officer explained, "Your brother had an accomplice, but when the Titans found them, neither were to be found." Kingsley rewinded that month in her head, remembering how upset and confused she was. "But."

"But…?"

"They were at the bank for money, that is for sure," Armando began in detail, "But, in the tape, we noticed something." He picked up the remote on his desk, turning his chair to the TV behind him. It clicked on and he popped in the tape on top of the stand, and the footage began to roll.

It was one that showed two figures, entering the bank, their guns raised high. One figure seemed to be yelling, Kingsley noticing immediately that one wore a mask, a mask in the mold of a boar. The other wore a clown mask, and her heart pinging as she realized who it was. Marcell. That was Marcell, her older brother Marcell. The same Marcell who would run her bath water, the one who would always start fights on the block with other boys who'd make fun of her. Her Marcell.

Armando sped up the tape, before stopping at two shadowy figures standing in the doorway of the grand vault. "Look here, look very closely" his finger traced the slowed down footage, before pausing it again, "Three. There's three shadows here." Kingsley commended his watchful eye, there was _three._ Someone else was there with them.

"Three," the footage seemed to take her breath away, as he started it again. Two men entered the vault, before she realized that the man that she thought was her brother, was wearing a different clown mask.

Marcell didn't just vanished, someone _took_ him.

"Someone-"

"Abducted Marcell," she interrupted, "Someone abducted Marcell." Armando was quiet for a minute, as Kingsley let it sink in. Someone, or something, took Marcell a year ago. She felt the guilt eating her alive, this entire time she'd berated her brother for running off somewhere. Guilt, what a weird feeling, one she rarely felt.

"Miss Pimentel, I brought you down today because I wanted to tell you this, nothing more," Armando admitted, "We will try to find who took him, I guarantee you that, ma'am."

Her world felt like it was spinning, her mind racing and her tongue dry. What would she tell Al, or Candy or her mother? Did the department already warn them, or was she the first to know? Fear filled every fiber of her being.

For once in her life, Kingsley didn't know what to say.

She stood from her seat, nodded, and walked back out the door.

 **...**

The ceiling light came on, Kingsley squinting behind her shades.

"You're late, that's rare."

Kingsley set down the bags of groceries, looking at the man before her. The wig he usually wore at this time of day was set down, his lipstick still on his lips, a vivid shade of purple. "I stopped to get some food for Claudette," Kingsley murmured, she was surprised she still had her voice, "After I went to the department, I mean." She was surprised he was home from work this early, was it slow over at the cabaret tonight? There was still a sour taste in her mouth, her hands a little clammy. If there was one thing she hated, it was being stressed. It made her hair frizzy.

"Yea, I know that much," Alphonse retorted, sipping coffee out of the mug in his hands. "Claudette was wondering where you were...and they called and told me." There was a pregnant pause, before Kingsley picked up the bags and set them on the marble counter, taking items out of the bags.

"I knew he would," she stated, "I needed something to take my mind off of things, so I took the liberty of using my pay to buy some stuff for the month," she began putting up stuff quickly, before Alphonse grabbed her wrist, stopping her from putting the baby food in the pantry.

"No, you ain't goin' on no damn ego trip right now," his voice was stern, "I'm having it just as hard as you right now, OK? Ma' won't stop blowin' up my phone, and I'm this close to blocking her number." Kingsley bit her lip, black lipstick staining her teeth, before she silently put the milk in the fridge and sat in the spot he was sitting in, defeated.

"Someone _took_ him."

"Naw." Alphonse said, sarcasm dripping in his voice. He had a feeling where this was going, and he didn't like it.

"That's literally the worst possible outcome."

Alphonse was quiet, sorry for being so harsh.

"Kingsley Dolores Pimentel," he began, "Whatever is going on in that big head of yours, stop it." A smile cracked on her face, before growing into something more sinister, a smile he could only describe as wicked. This was the Kingsley he knew. The one that got into fights on the playground, the one that would knock over sandcastles and used to lie and cheat and steal her way into getting what she wanted. And this was the Kingsley that she'd hidden from the rest of the world.

The smile wiped off her face as soon as it came, her expression neutral now, her face cool cooing of a baby came from the other room, as Kingsley began to throw away the bags, some of the wetness from them staining her hands. Alphonse stood, crossing his arms, trying to decipher what his little sister was thinking.

He looked her up and down, as she turned on her heel as the babbling turned into crying, a pep in her step. On her right arm, he could've sworn he'd seen a patch of skin, one that was bruised and a little twisted. She'd probably cut herself on a garden tool, his brotherly senses decided.

And in his twenty six years of life, he still couldn't figure out what she was thinking.

"Titans, go!"

Robin hopped into action, running as fast as he could into the bank. The siren was wailing, as he hopped over people, either huddled on the floor in fear or running out of the door into the growing crowd. The Bank of Perez was usually broken into at least once a week, so these movements were routine to him. Behind him followed the rest of the Titans, Starfire and Raven soaring through the air, Beast Boy and Cyborg charging in after him.

"They're in there!" the clerk wailed, pointing at the door behind her. Robin burst through it with a swift kick, adrenaline flowing through his system. This, this was the life for him, one of fighting crime. For justice, for what was right.

"Cyborg, get the left wing! Beast Boy, the right with me, Raven and Starfire get the middle! Go!" They split up, immediately jumping into action. Cyborg made his way down the wing, putting an extra pep in his step. Surprisingly, the calls hadn't even told who exactly was robbing the bank, only that there was a danger lying about.

 _The H.I.V.E.,_ he thought almost immediately. They had been causing more mischief as of late, whether it was robbing banks or breaking into the houses of the rich, he recalled multiple millionaires calling in, fearing for their life. This call had been more abrupt, yes, but that was to be expected with the eccentric group.

The hallway seemed to be longer than usual, as he finally reached the large vault in his wing. This was the vault they used for money, he remembered, his eyes widening at the scene before him. The metal was twisted and contorted, some sort of liquid dripping down some of the sides. Was it...Smoking? He was cautious not to touch it was he hopped in, keeping his cool and activating his arm's laser.

"Y'know," he began slyly, "You'd think you'd be smart enough to open the door the regular way, huh?"

The figure turned around.

"And maybe you'd figure to shut the door behind you."

* * *

 _sometimes, the best way to continue a story is to make it predictable, then throw twists into it. it makes it more exciting to me, the setup to this story may seem predictable, but trust me, its a lot more complicated then it is now. who is the figure? and where is marcell?_  
 _this story has been hard to write. wish me luck, in due time. reviews and criticism are loved, please leave reviews and other comments. id appreciate them. also, i am looking for a beta writer, so if youd like to help me, please pm me!_

 _\- mike, a hopeful writer._


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